The Trouble with Fate
by sexdrugsandoreos
Summary: The awkward middle child in a family of dominant personalities, Castiel Novak is used to doing what he's told. He's also pretty used to feeling alone (and, honestly, there are worse things to feel). But everything changes when Castiel starts at Truman High and, for the first time in his life, finds himself making friends - and faced with some very difficult decisions.
1. Chapter 1

Castiel Novak is afraid.

It's an unusual feeling. He might not be loud or especially aggressive on the face of it – and, compared to the domineering presences of his brothers, he is unquestionably the wallflower of the family –, but he knows how to defend himself and he's good at adjusting to the new and the crazy, if not always in the ways deemed most socially acceptable by his peers. He has to; he may only be sixteen, but with a family like his, he's already seen more than enough craziness to last a lifetime.

'GOOD MORNING, VIETNAM!' Lucien's booming voice fills the room as he comes bounding in, awake ludicrously early as ever. Cas slowly opens his eyes but doesn't respond, gaze blurrily fixed on the cracked white walls.  
He thinks vaguely that they should really do something about that damp (but, of course, damp is the least of their worries; it's not like they'll be here long, anyway).

Lucien is singing now – 'Good morning starshine,', swaying gently from side-to-side as he does with an expression of indisputable lunacy on his face. Cas sticks his head under the pillow and wordlessly waits for him to go away.  
(He should be making the most of it, really – Lucien's good moods never stick around for long.)  
As if on cue, Michael barges in, his mere presence seeming to demand silence before he's even said a word. Lucien's response – increasing the volume and switching to a falsetto pitch – is equally predictable.  
Conceding defeat, Cas finally sits up. He glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table; he figures it can't be any later than 6.30, and that he might be able to use this information to his advantage and get his brothers to _actually leave him_ _alone_, for once in his –

8.42. Oh.  
'Oh, crikey,' he mutters – eliciting an overt snigger from Lucien's direction.  
Today is Cas' first day at Truman High (his first high school in Indiana; yet another state to tick off his – non-existent – bucket list). Being the new kid is never fun – he should know, the amount of experience he's had – but this isn't what he's afraid of. You only have to do something so many times for both the fear and the intrigue to wear off, replaced by a bland predictability presumably not so different from the one people with normal lives experience.  
Michael's eyes flick from Luce to Cas and back again, expression of pure disdain on his face.  
'After something, are we, Mikey?'  
Lucien's still smiling, still playing, but there's a hard edge to his tone. Michael's eyes narrow in response. Cas sits very still and stares at the wall, hoping that if he focuses long and hard enough he can block them out. (It's a technique he's been using, in vain, for years now – the current success rate is 0% – but it can't hurt to try.)

Michael's eyes have that all too familiar glimmer in them, and for a second Cas thinks he's going to rise to the bait. In characteristically angelic fashion, he rises above it, simply turning away from Lucien's provocative smirk and facing Castiel as he addresses them both.  
'School starts in twenty minutes.' He's speaking calmly, though clearly exerting much effort to do so. When neither of them respond, he sighs loudly and raises his voice, sounding almost like their father. 'GET READY!'

What Cas is afraid of – more deeply with each passing day – is that his brothers will end up killing each other.  
(Leaving him officially in charge of Gabe; no good can come of that.)

Miraculously – especially considering Lucien's notoriously long showers –, they are only a few minutes late, Michael speeding so outrageously that Cas forgets to fear for his family's future and begins to fear for his life instead.  
Michael hurries them out of the car and they all make their way to the headteacher's office – four spotty, scowling teenage boys, like a parody of the Perfect American Family. (Lucien and Michael certainly act like an old married couple – if one on the verge of divorce – sometimes.) The principal, Mrs Brumley, certainly looks bemused at the sight of them. Lucien raises an eyebrow in her direction – mocking, challenging – and her scowl is immediately smoothed over, replaced by a bright and cheery smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.  
'Hello! You must be our new boys!' She looks behind them, notably flustered.  
'Is everything okay, Madam?' Cas asks, before he can help himself. He just feels sorry for her, honestly; Monday mornings are tough on anyone, and she and her staff have the delights of both Gabe and Lucien to look forward to. As a family, their only saving grace is that they're almost guaranteed not to stick around for long.  
Michael nudges him and Gabriel smirks (Lucien is too busy playing his favourite game of Making Innocent People Horrifically Uncomfortable for No Good Reason – currently by licking his lips and smiling semi-menacingly at a slight, brown-haired boy surely no older than fifteen – to acknowledge Cas' apparent indiscretion), but, to everyone's surprise, Mrs Brumley seems genuinely grateful.

'I'm fine, thankyou, hon. Is your father about?'  
'Define 'father'.' Gabriel's eyes are twinkling, mouth curved into a mischievous grin. Michael breaks away from his embarrassment at Cas' faux pas – and existence in general, really – to shoot him a warning glare. They all know who the 'father' who called up to register was – the same who's spent the past however many years waking them up, cooking their meals and now driving them around – who turned away a scholarship at _Harvard University_ for their sake (or their biological father's sake; 'the sake of the family', he said). And, clearly contrary to the principal's belief, he is standing right in front of her.

Mrs Brumley blinks, bemused and blissfully oblivious to all the silent conversations going on around her.  
'I'm sorry, I don't follow.'  
'Nothing, Miss,' Gabriel says – unconvincingly, under Michael's scrutinous gaze. 'Just playing with you. Our dad's away on business right now.'  
Lucien lets out a long, hollow laugh – loud enough for the brown-haired boy (and probably the entire corridor), let alone Mrs Brumley herself, to hear. She is kind enough to ignore it.

Forty-five minutes later, Cas is sitting in what should have been his second – but has clearly turned out to be his first – class of the day, minding his own business awaiting the unadulterated joys of Geometry when a boy (slightly taller, with a shaved head and a smirk to rival Gabriel's) saunters over, standing over him with a look of entitled expectance on his face.  
Cas stays hunched up over his new workbook, pretending to be deeply engrossed in the (blank) page before him in the hope that the boy will be discouraged and leave. As a general rule, he doesn't bother making friends; with a family life and a nature like his, he finds it is very rarely worth the effort it requires.  
The boy clears his throat loudly. Cas pretends not to hear for the first and second time, but on the third he is forced to look up.  
(If there's one thing that interests him less than making friends, it's making enemies.)

'Can I help you with something?'  
He's trying to be polite, but the boy's smirk is replaced by a frown and his eyebrows furrow. Cas sighs inwardly, fighting the urge to bang his head against the desk.  
_Great. Another faux pas.  
_'That was a genuine offer,' he clarifies quickly, awkwardly extending his hand to the other boy. 'I'm Castiel – Cas. You can call me Cas.'  
The boy takes it after a moment's hesitation. He still looks a little bemused, but at least he's smiling now.  
'Dean. Dean Winchester. Pleasure's all mine, but you're kind of in my seat, bro.'  
'Oh!' Cas stands up so abruptly that the desk shakes, making such an almighty clatter that the whole room full of people turn around to stare. One girl – dark-haired, pale-skinned and pretty, but with an unnerving glint in her big brown eyes – outright laughs. Cas turns instinctively to glare at her and she shuts up – but the sneering smile on her face seems to say he hasn't heard the last of her.

_Don't make enemies_, he reminds himself sternly. For such a generally good person (he likes to think, anyway), he really does seem to have an abnormal amount of difficulty sticking to that rule.

More unusually, it seems he may also be having trouble sticking to the whole no-friends thing. When he turns around, Dean is sitting down and patting the seat next to him, something like respect in his eyes.  
'_Total_ bitch,' he says, in a stage whisper, when Cas gratefully accepts his offer and sits back down (he manages to restrain from asking what Dean was making such a fuss about in the first place, knowing that the seat _right next to his_ was free). 'I would – I _have _– but there are some personalities no amount of hotness can compensate for, you know?'  
Cas gives a slightly jilted nod.  
'Uh-huh. Thanks, I'll make a note of that.'  
Dean looks a little put out by that, and Cas is just wondering whether to clarify that he's being serious (_again_) when the other boy laughs and shakes his head.  
'You're funny, man. I like you.'

Their teacher finally wanders in a few minutes later – or rather, wheels in, as he's wheelchair-bound –, a gruff, bearded man probably in his mid-40s and not looking the part at all in a black cap and plaid shirt. He surveys them all with a look of disinterested derision, not saying a word. Cas is just starting to wonder if he's actually a teacher at all, and not just a crazy man in a wheelchair who's come in off the street – and, if this is the case, whether he has a gun and how freaked out/impressed/confused the other students will be if/when Cas puts his killer martial arts skills to the test – when he turns to face the board with a long sigh and writes, 'MR SINGER – GEOMETRY 1A'. Cas stands again (because that went _so_ _well_ last time) and clears his throat.

Mr Singer wheels back around to face the class – if only after underlining his name several times, so forcefully that the end of the chalk breaks off. Cas isn't one to jump to conclusions, but he's getting the distinct impression that Mr Singer is not exactly passionate about his work.  
'Hello, Sir,' he says, and Mr Singer's eyebrows shoot up. 'I'm Castiel. I'm a new student here.'  
'You are?' Cas nods. 'Congratulations. Now be an old dear and sit back down, would ya? Don't want to wreck your chances of fitting in by blocking your classmates' views of the wonders of glorified shapes.'  
There are a few awkward snickers across the classroom. Cas isn't sure if Mr Singer is joking or not.  
'I took a blank exercise book from the front of the classroom,' he continues uncertainly, 'I hope that won't be a problem.'  
'Take all the blank exercise books you want, kid.' Mr Singer's voice is mocking, but it's not unkind. He notices with irritation that the girl from before is still staring at him, scowling now. She's not the only one, actually; even Dean looks a little embarrassed on his behalf. 'Just sit the hell down and let me get on with this godforsaken class. Sooner I do, sooner we can all be out of this dump.'  
Cas sits down. 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean turns out to be in all but one of Cas' classes. He also turns out not to have many friends as such, though the girls clearly like him. Most bizarrely and fortunately of all, Dean actually seems to warm to him, finding his characteristic tactlessness and awkwardness more a source of amusement than anything.

'Number one, most of the guys at this school are jackasses,' Dean informs him, when he (rather bluntly) queries why it is that Dean doesn't seem to have any other friends to go around with. He's seen him talking to the brown-haired kid from the principal's office in the hallways, and he rarely misses an opportunity to flirt outrageously with anything in a skirt, but, after almost an entire day following Dean around, Cas still hasn't seen any signs of actual friendship with anyone but him (and the mystery brown-haired kid, but he's younger – a relative, maybe?). Dean beckons Cas over to an empty table at lunch and rarely talks to anyone else in classes, chipping in only to make the odd sarcastic comment that (unsurprisingly) earn him stern looks from the teachers and (confusingly) seem to leave half the girls positively swooning. 'Number two, it's not like I'll be here long enough to form beautiful lifelong friendships anyway. I've only been here three weeks and I bet you anything me and Sammy will be out of here by the end of the month. You move around enough, you stop bothering with the formalities –friendships, relationships, homework, actually _reading_ the books they set us. Not that I ever did those last two anyway...'  
Cas gives a dry little laugh. 'Yeah, I know that feeling. Not that I ever really did the first two.'  
Dean looks up from the textbook page he's pretending to read.  
'You do?'  
'Yes.' There's a prolonged silence then; it gradually becomes apparent that Cas is expected to elaborate. 'My father...moves around a lot. I don't anticipate us being here a long time either.'  
'Us?'  
'Me and my brothers.'  
Dean whistles under his breath. 'You don't say. Guess we've got more in common than I thought.'

By the end of his day, Cas has broken at least one (probably both) of his aforementioned rules. He is overwhelmingly content.

Halfway through his third day at Truman High, Castiel's English class is interrupted by a knock on the door.  
'Come in!' The teacher barks, and the door swings open to reveal an unusually forlorn-looking Gabriel.  
'Is Castiel Novak in this class?' His little brother has never sounded so small.  
The teacher points him out. 'That the guy you're looking for?'  
Gabriel nods. 'That's the one. Mrs Brumley wants to see him.'

Of course, it would be this school – the first in at least ten years where he thinks he might actually be happy, where he's actually started to make friends (_a_ friend, anyway) – where it all goes wrong.

Lucien is sat on the office chair in the principal's office, staring fixedly straight ahead while Michael paces back and forwards agitatedly, talking fast and furiously. Neither of them respond to their brothers' entrance. Mrs Brumley herself is nowhere to be seen.  
'Lucie got into a fight,' Gabriel explains. He doesn't even attempt to conceal the respect in his voice. Having eventually acknowledged their presence, Michael clearly picks up on this, and his face undergoes the subtle transformation from looking like he might explode to looking like he definitely will.  
'Oh,' says Castiel. What else is there to say?

'I don't know what's _wrong_ with you,' Michael says, still pacing, 'You can't behave like a spoilt child forever, Lucien. I know you want attention, but this isn't the way to go about getting it. Our father didn't raise us to be –'  
'_Our father_ didn't raise us at all!'  
'You know how important his work is! You're so _selfish_!' Michael spits, and at that moment the door opens and Mrs Brumley walks in. As it does, Cas sees the brown-haired girl from his Geometry class – Meg, he's learnt her name is – sitting on a chair outside, evidently in trouble (probably caught torturing kittens or something; he's only known her two days, admittedly, but thus far at least his first impression of her is seeming pretty damn accurate). She catches his eye but then looks away, seeming almost embarrassed.

'Hello, boys,' Mrs Brumley says. She's smiling, but her tone is weary and Cas feels possibly even more sorry for her than before. With her arrival, Michael's demeanour changes completely, slipping seamlessly into Responsible Big Brother mode.  
'I'm so sorry about this, Miss,' he says – but she's not looking at him.  
'Gabriel, Castiel. Shouldn't you boys be in class?'  
Cas shoots Gabe a questioning look. He shrugs.  
'Luce sent that brown-haired kid to come get me. Assumed he was getting expelled or something – and I didn't want to miss out on the fun.' He might be a million miles away from saying it, but Cas can tell Gabriel's seriously worried right now – and it's infectious.  
'Nobody's getting expelled,' says Mrs Brumley calmly. _Not yet, anyway_, is the unspoken appendage. 'You two can go back to class.'  
'Oh, _please_, don't be too hasty,' Lucien speaks in a slow, deliberate drawl, like they're hardly worth the effort it takes. 'I wanted you boys here for a reason.'  
'Stop this, Lucien.' Michael's voice is low and threatening. 'You heard the principal. Go back to class.'  
Lucien continues as if he hasn't heard him, standing up and addressing them all theatrically.  
'You are gathered here today to witness the official departure of Lucien Novak from the educational establishment. It's been a rollercoaster – we've laughed, we've cried, and I like to think we've all learnt a lot about ourselves. But it's time to say goodbye.'  
They all stare at him in confusion, not even Michael speaking, until Lucien rolls his eyes and clarifies, 'I've decided to take some time off school. Like, forever.'

Then it all blows up.

After several minutes of 'heated debate' (read: screaming, shouting and even – in Lucien's case – throwing things), Lucien storms out. Michael goes to walk after him but is stopped by Mrs Brumley, who's somehow managed to stay incredibly calm in the face of insanity.  
'Give him a few minutes to cool down, then I'll go and talk to him. If we still can't get through then we're seriously going to have to call your dad.'  
For once in his life, Michael is too exhausted to protest.

A few minutes later, they hear the revving of a car engine, and Cas looks outside just in time to see the family's battered black Chevrolet speed away.  
'_Shit_.' For one of the the first times in living memory, Michael completely loses his cool, banging his fist on the desk before rummaging frantically through his coat pockets. 'My damn keys – how did he – I'll kill him, I swear to god...'

A little later, Cas is sitting on the steps outside the school, mulling over the day's events and wondering whether he can bring himself to go to Geography (and whether anyone would really blame him for skipping). Apparently having no ethical qualms whatsoever about (potentially) getting his own brother arrested, Michael has gone to report a car theft at the police station with Mrs Brumley. Gabriel is off sulking, someplace that presumably isn't the Double Algebra class Castiel knows he's supposed to be in right now. God only knows where Lucien is.

He's just about made up his mind to go back to the flat and eat his feelings – Michael had made the brilliant mistake of leaving Gabriel responsible for food shopping that week, leaving them with a kitchen full of junk food and nothing (non-artificially) green in sight – when there's the sound of footsteps behind him and someone sits down beside him, wordlessly dangling a cigarette in front of his face.

'You look like you could use one.'  
Meg.

'What do you...' Her eyes narrow. _Don't make enemies_, he reminds himself. _It's not worth it _– even though, at this rate, they'll have been driven out of town by the end of the week anyhow. 'No, thankyou. I disagree with smoking.'  
She rolls her eyes. 'Suit yourself, princess.'  
She takes one out for herself, lights up and takes a long drag – and, honestly, Castiel's never smoked in his life, never even wanted to, but he's just _so fed up_ and it smells _so good_ and...and screw it.  
Her lips curve into a smile as he reaches out to take one, holding it out for her to light. To his own surprise, he finds himself startled by just how pretty she is – how pretty she _could_ be, especially, if she'd genuinely smile more often.

Cas tries to take a drag and chokes on it, whole body shaking. Meg shakes her head.  
'You're _such _a sad case.'  
After he chokes twice more, she finally takes pity – 'can't let you waste a good damn cigarette, can I?' – and shows him how to do it properly. It takes a while, but he gets the hang eventually, a strong and much needed sense of calm rush through him.

(He decides he secretly kind of likes smoking – especially likes the way it feels to be rebelling against his dad, if only in the smallest of ways. He's always tried so hard to be a good son, tried so hard to _do the right thing_ – but right now, it just doesn't feel worth it.)

For a fairly long time, they sit in silence – that, all things considered, should definitely be less comfortable than it is.  
Then Meg says, 'Rough day?' Cas just grimaces. 'Right. Stupid question.' She stubs out her cigarette and flicks it to the side. 'Families suck.'  
'Family is the most important thing in the world,' says Castiel He doesn't mean to; he's had it drilled into him so much by Michael and – on the increasingly rare occasions he actually deigns to grace them with his presence – their father that it just comes automatically. 'Sorry,' he adds awkwardly, 'Thankyou for the cigarette.'  
Meg shrugs again. 'Sure. Be a good boy and don't talk back to me again and I might let you have one more.'  
'No, thankyou,' Cas feels his tone lacks conviction, but he also feels he should at least _try_ to be a good son. 'I still disagree with smoking – on a number of ethical, social, and obviously health-based grounds. But thankyou.'  
Meg stands up to leave and he thinks he must have offended her, but she's chuckling to herself as she gathers up her things and starts to walk away.  
''Course you do. See you round, princess.'

Cas watches her disappear, quietly baffled by the whole encounter. When she's out of sight, he stands slowly with a sigh. He's sort of lost his appetite, honestly – whether that's the effect of the smoking, Meg, or a bit of both, he can't be sure –, but he also feels possibly even less like facing classes than before (and that family-sized pack of Doritos won't eat itself) so home it is. As he walks out through the school gates, there's a part of him that can't help but wonder if he'll ever do so again – if him and his brothers will even be _allowed_ back here, after all the hassle they've caused and are continuing to cause less than a week after arriving. If he'll ever even see Dean (or Meg) again.

The thought makes him sadder than it should.


End file.
